


Open your eyes

by softlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - The Empty Hearse, Domestic Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, John is a Mess, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Reichenbach, Pre-Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed, Sherlock Secret Santa 2018, Sleeping Together, TJLC | The Johnlock Conspiracy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:25:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlock/pseuds/softlock
Summary: “When I said I was okay to pretend to be in a relationship with you, I meant sharing food at dinner and possibly holding hands, not sharing a bed with my flatmate!”“Don’t be an idiot! That was rather the point, you know! We need to sleep in the same room in order to catch the killer!”John and Sherlock enter a fake relationship for a case. Will these idiots realize they don't need to act anymore?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My (late) secret santa fic for thepersianslipper on tumblr. This is my first fic, so be nice :)

“Oh lovely! Just what I needed so soon before getting married to my fiancée!” 

“You did agree to this, you know,” Sherlock answered petulantly.

John and Sherlock had barely just arrived their hotel room for an exciting new case in Cambridge. A double murder to be exact --triple murder if you count the disappearance of a lab rat, as Sherlock pointed out. The victims were a chemistry student and med student girlfriend, killed in the former’s dorm room. Sherlock suspected an act of jealousy from one of their university colleagues. Mycroft suspected the replacement anatomy teacher. John did not know who to suspect.

A very interesting case, rated a seven on Sherlock’s seemingly random scale of interest. And this warranted travel to the crime scene and personally tracking the killer. Unfortunately, this meant acting as bait and signing up for a short term en-suite university dorm room. This required Sherlock to sign up to a short chemistry course at Cambridge through Mycroft’s financial help and connections, while John took a first aid course for medical professionals and acted as Sherlock’s boyfriend. This way they could request and share a university guest room without suspicion. 

This had all gone very well, they had been welcomed at the university and Mary had allowed John to leave before the wedding preparations. There was just the slight problem of sleeping arrangements.

“When I said I was okay to pretend to be in a relationship with you, I meant sharing food at dinner and possibly holding hands, not sharing a bed with my flatmate!” John exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. He turned around, stomped into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind him.

Sherlock called after him: “Don’t be an idiot! That was rather the point, you know! We need to sleep in the same room in order to catch the killer!”

John just sat, fully clad, on the toilet seat. He crossed his arms and scrunched his eyes shut. What a nightmare. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. 

Sherlock did have a point that they needed to play their parts to solve the case, both for gathering information onsite and to attract the killer. But John was sick and tired of always tagging along, following the Great Sherlock Holmes. Wasn’t he allowed to have his own life, with Mary? Sherlock did not bother to inform him before faking his own death, for god’s sake! He should be able to have his quiet life in the suburbs without the whirlwind of drama that followed Sherlock wherever he went. 

And now he had to share a bed with his flat mate! How could Sherlock be this insensitive? He knew the detective was oblivious to social niceties, but this was more than a bit “Not good”. People did not spend so much time with their best friends when they are so close to getting married.He had spent way too much time wanking to the thought of Sherlock to be humanly possible, and it did not help that Sherlock was insanely attractive. John did not know what made Sherlock so beautiful (probably those sharp cheekbones) but Sherlock was definitely ethereal. 

His heart had already skipped a beat at dinner when Sherlock’s long fingers traced his own over the table at the canteen table over dinner. He did not wish to be carried away again. John was worried he would end up touching the detective while asleep and Sherlock would figure out --as he always does—that his relationship act was an actual desire on his part. Sherlock, who abhorred sentiment, would never look at him in the eye again. No, it was better he stayed to his side of the bed. 

There was a soft knock at the door. “…John?” Sherlock’s voice breathed through the keyhole.

John pressed his palms to his eyes, “…Yes?”

“Um… Sorry about the bed being a bit not good and all but I do need to use the loo,” Sherlock rushed on, “Let’s make this simple for both of us. Drop the act. Just forget about the implications turn off the lights and go to bed. We can do the pretending to be boyfriends again first thing tomorrow at breakfast.”

John grunted and stood up. Alright. Time to be a soldier. He felt as though he’d been sent on a suicide mission. He changed quickly into his pajamas and brushed his teeth. He checked himself in the mirror and tried to smooth out the crease of worry between his eyebrows. Finally he grabbed the door handle and stepped out into the bedroom. Sherlock was standing awkwardly by the door and swiftly fled to the loo once john was out. John decided it was better to wait for Sherlock to choose the side of the bed and sat down on the short edge. 

The sheet was soft and silky, which made John think of Sherlock’s dressing gown he was without a doubt slipping on behind that bathroom door. How could a uni bedroom have such pristine sheets? Why was the smell of Sherlock’s aftershave overwhelm him so? John groaned. Oh, of course Sherlock had brought his own sheets, the posh git. John rolled his eyes and fiddled with his outdated phone, pretending to do something useful. 

Sherlock was taking ages in the shower. John had to turn on the small old tv to drown out the sounds of the water pouring down Sherlock’s body. God, that body! He tried to distract himself from his inappropriate thoughts by turning to a nature documentary about the life cycles of bees. Unfortunately, the closeups of pouring honey only reminded him of the lush shampoo running down Sherlock’s shoulders, his back, his hips, his legs… He ended up switching to a documentary about Victorian times, which was bleak and drab and hopefully unsexy. But even in the Romantic men of that time reminded him of Sherlock, with long limbs and soft pouts. 

John shook his head and tried to think of his soon to be wife back home. He would soon be a husband (and possibly a father) and had to remind himself of the joys that come along with responsibilities in the life he would build with Mary. Time to leave the adrenaline of crime scenes and the messy life at Baker Street behind.   
Yes, this was only a temporary case, he would just have to play the part a little while longer...and sleep in the same bed as Sherlock. John lifted his head up and took a deep breath.

"Christ."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for bed! Sherlock deduces stuff and John has angst.

Sherlock finally came out of the bathroom to find John staring blankly at the television. John stood up suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Er--I just thought you could choose side of the bed, I have no preference either way", John announced. "Don't be ridiculous John, from all the facts I have gathered about you it is easy to deduce your preferences regarding sleeping arrangements." 

"Oh yeah? Go on then genius, tell me about my 'preferences'!" John replied irritably, mimicking air quotations.   
Sherlock must have seen the glint in John's eye that meant he was actually curious and ready to be amazed by the detective’s cleverness. Sherlock stood impressively illuminated by the streetlamp under the window. 

"You have been in the army, therefore you enjoy -- or rather require-- a semblance of control and order. This is why you insist on choosing the same side whenever you need to, namely with your girlfriends. That side has usually been the right, but since you did not really care about any of your girlfriends and would not be comfortable demanding a side from them, i will disregard that point. You have ptsd from your time as military captain, and wish to spare me from your nightmares by having the easiest access to the door and the loo. You usually sleep with your back against a wall and turned towards the door and windows, as indicated by the creases on the right side of your pajamas at Baker Street. This is because you were undoubtedly captured at some point of your army adventures and have remnants of claustrophobia. You hold a gun in your right hand and like to have it close to the drawer on your bedside table when you sleep alone. However you are left-handed despite your intermittent tremor, and your gun is in your coat, so you’d prefer to have your left hand free. You would therefore intuitively choose the left side in the configurations of this room." 

There was a moment of silence where Sherlock and John just stared at each other, breathless from the stream of deductions. Just when Sherlock looked about to get embarrassed for possibly hurting John's pride, John smiled. 

"Amazing. Truly amazing, " He gave a little chuckle and gazed at Sherlock fondly, "God you're right of course." 

Sherlock blushed and pushed his luck. "Even the bit about being detained captive?" 

"Yeah that--is true. Yeah. Sometimes i just--need to see the exit, because then there was no way out back then...But you're wrong about the girlfriends, I loved them and that's why i let them choose!" 

"Oh come on John admit that your love has not been exactly stellar!" 

"Alright alright I admit, but now with Mary it'll be good, we have a very loving and committed relationship." John said defensively. 

Sherlock grumbled something about right side of the bed, no difference…

"Oi! I might retract making you my best man if you're not supportive of my future wife!" 

"Oh but Mary is interesting John, unlike your previous women. And besides, don't take it personally, I doubt I'd enjoy any kind of wedding celebration" 

"Ok then I keep you as best man, just out of spite!"

John had tried to joke, but it did not seem to land well with Sherlock, who lowered his eyes and mumbled to the ground:  
“It’s a great honor and I will not let you down.” 

This was destabilizing for John, Sherlock looked very serious and a little bit…sad? 

John realized maybe this pretending-to-be-in-a-relationship might be tiring for Sherlock as well. After all, he was not good with small talk and gushy emotions. And now he’d invited Sherlock to be best man at his wedding – the most lovey-dovey event of all! Sherlock had seemed excited about the color-coordinating the wedding invitations, but that was his detail-oriented nature. He might be nervous about the social bit? John figured Sherlock needed a break from this as much as he did. 

"You thought of everything, you even put the hard pillow on the left side!" John exclaimed, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Of course, best pillows for sleeping on your side.” Sherlock quipped, seeming to regain his composure. They awkwardly stood each on their side of the bed.

“All right then, ready for bed?”

“Yes, John,” Sherlock slipped under the covers, quickly followed by John.

John lay still as a ramrod next to Sherlock. How the hell would he fall asleep? After what felt like an eternity, Sherlock asked: “Should I turn the light off?”  
John hummed an affirmative. The light switch went off with a little click! and Sherlock shuffled around the covers. John stared at the ceiling, waiting. After a while John turned his head and realized the detective had fallen asleep.

He looked very young in his sleep. Even younger than he was when they first met and during A Study in Pink. It seemed like all his worries and façade had faded away. John wished he could sleep that easy tonight.

Then Sherlock started to snore.

John was shocked. He did not know Sherlock snored! He seemed way too slim and delicate and…god-like? to succumb to such a basal human affliction.  
It was true that Sherlock basically never slept during cases so he would not have been able to witness it often. But they were flat mates! He knew all about the violin screeching at ungodly hours of the morning, but not of snoring.

It was true that his snores were not terribly loud. But rather oddly cute.

John was both irritated at the disturbance and feeling a wave of affection bloom in his chest. This man was going to kill him one day. Between dangerous cases, faking his death and his quirky lifestyle, Sherlock had turned his life around, both good and bad. 

But John would not have had it any other way if he was being honest with himself. Which he wasn’t often, but still. This life with Sherlock has been a beautiful period in his life, though short and intense. John wasn’t looking forward to leaving it, but leave he must. After being deceived by the detective at the Fall (with a capital F!) he could not trust the detective fully and realized his feelings would never be returned. He must build himself a new life, with Mary, whom he also loved very much.

Sherlock shuffled in his sleep, his curls bouncing gently across the pillow.   
They looked so soft. Surely it would not be a crime if he just touched them?

And his lips were were so plush, just like his deep voice. Would Sherlock notice if he softly pressed his own lips to his?

But John kept his fingers still. He must accept that he’ll never be allowed this from the stoic detective. 

For now he was allowed to gaze at Sherlock all night long. If he wanted to. If he allowed himself to. If he did not lose all sense of self control. But he should not get used to it. He had to seize this moment and then let it go. And he could not bear to think of it.

John sighed.   
Sherlock made a particularly loud snore.

He decided sleep was the best medicine for the heartache gnawing at his insides. As Sherlock said, he could do the acting in the morning. With all his willpower, he turned around and to reluctantly face away from Sherlock and towards the door. Yes, he would endure crunching his bad shoulder into the mattress if it meant saving his honor. That was the only thing he was good at these days, being a soldier. Even if that particular war that only existed in his head. 

John’s shoulder ached tonight and he was not making matters better. But John Watson, Ex Captain of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers, would not relent. He would not move and persist through the night awake if he had to. 

Sherlock had stopped snoring and it was eerily quiet. John wished he’d start again. Then Sherlock mumbled something unintelligible into his pillow. John heard him the next slurred words clearly enough to make out one whispered word:

“Jo-ohnn”

John’s breath caught in his throat, he whispered back “Yeah?” 

But then there was silence.

John’s heart finally broke. God knows what Sherlock was dreaming of. But John was part of it. He was important enough to even be any part of his life, even if it was only to buy milk or give him a pen during his mind palace sessions. He was somehow present in Sherlock’s life. He was so lucky, and now his contact with the extraordinary man would all be reduced to occasional visits together with his wife. 

John felt a tremendous wave of despair and upset boiling through him. He did not make a sound, suffocating the sobs before they emerged. But he could not stop the tear forming out the corner of his eye. He felt it form, round and wet, pour down a streak on his cheek and drip a wet spot on his pillow. John’s last thoughts before he fell asleep were that at least Sherlock had not been awake to witness this moment of weakness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to put on the act

John was awoken by a loud snore of Sherlock’s. Sherlock had taken over most of the bed, and most of the covers, which left John freezing in a corner. Well, that was to be expected from such a self-absorbed man as Sherlock. 

What was less expected was the leg that had slung itself over his legs and Sherlock’s hand grazing his shoulder. This was sending John in a bit of a panic as he was not used to touching the self-proclaimed sociopath. He checked the clock: 6.21AM. The alarm was set to 7 so that they could plan the day, eat a very public breakfast and get ready for class at 8.

He was at least glad he got through the night without nightmares, so that he could be well-rested before today’s trials. However though he knew Sherlock liked sleeping in, usually on cases he would not sleep at all. So this was a bit odd. He had been very excited to take this case, but had been almost nervous asking John to take in on, what with the wedding preparations and all. Mary had however been very accommodating and said that she was relieved Sherlock could distract them all a bit and she could have some time to herself to plan the honeymoon without John being stingy about the trip expenses.

But Sherlock had decided to sleep on. With his extremities laced with John’s. It was strangely comforting to touch another warm body in the cold. Of course he wished to be back in bed with Mary, where things were more wholesome and loving and less complicated. But sharing a bed with Sherlock was so soothing. And were he not about to get married he might have considered enjoying it… But Watsons were loyal. He should not even be thinking of the alternatives, of what ifs, lovely visions of how things could be. He was about to become the happiest man alive with Mary. And there was no “buts”. Of course he would. 

It was difficult to not enjoy something that was clearly enjoyable. John realized he must leave this bed at once. Or else he’d get sucked in. He turned the bedside lamp on, extricated himself from Sherlock’s grasp, grabbed his clothes and fled to the bathroom to change. He showered his late night grief away. He always showered in the morning, as Sherlock had deduced one morning: “a routine from army days”.   
But it was also a trick to rid his mind of his nightmares. He had not had nightmares now, but tantalizing visions of himself sleeping with Sherlock he’d rather scrub right off before the roots grew like weeds. He got dressed and tried rubbing off the indelible circles under his eyes. 

When he got out of the shower, he noticed Sherlock was awake, but keeping his eyes closed. He would probably stay like that until the alarm clock rang. 

“Good morning Sherlock! Wakey wakey!” John exclaimed playfully

“Hrumph…” Sherlock rolled himself in the covers into a burrito roll.

John slipped out a small giggle. And in an amazing turn of events, he saw Sherlock’s mouth quirk up into a small smile.

John was preparing his backpack when the alarm clock started ringing, and was turned off just as quickly by Sherlock.

John felt a soft whispered breath at his ear.   
“Good morning John.”

Just as John turned around, Sherlock slipped away to the bathroom. That voice had been so soft and tender it could not have belonged to the detective. John shook his head to rid himself of the memory. Sherlock was in the bathroom brushing his teeth by the sound of it.

\--------------------

Sherlock came out dressed in a hoodie and track pants.

John had never seen Sherlock in a hoodie apart from one case he had disguised himself as an addict. Of course, John reminded himself, Sherlock was an addict. Sherlock answered his fears:

“Oh come on John, I’m a uni student, I must dress the part! Besides, we have lab work today, wouldn’t want to mess up my shirts.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” John pointed out.

“Well it does stop me now, as I’m supposed to go on a dinner date with you this evening and have few dry-cleaned shirts left,” Sherlock said, flicking a speck of dust from his hoodie.

“A dinner date?! Thanks for informing me!” John shouted out irritably. 

“I was going to tell you now, you needn’t change your clothes as you’re not in lab today. You are playing an older medical student and do not usually wear suits anyway since you wear scrubs at the hospital,” Sherlock explained.

“Okay…But how many years are supposed to be between us, as a couple?”

“I’m in my mid-twenties, you’re in your early thirties. The story is that I met you at the lab and you tutored me a bit during med school. I admired your knowledge and practical nature while you found my bright mind and quirks endearing. We are in love and do not care about ages. Now you’ve done your foundation years and are learning first aid and traumatology here.”

John nodded as he got into character. It was true that this case was similar to their own pasts at uni, and acting that would be easy. Acting as a couple was the challenge.

At breakfast, John and Sherlock sat opposite each other at a long cafeteria table. Sherlock blended right in with the students, hunched over in his hoodie. John felt very old suddenly surrounded by these youths.

“There’s the anatomy teacher!” Sherlock whispered hurriedly.

Sherlock’s hand slipped out on the table next to his tray. When John didn’t respond, Sherlock kicked him in the shins under the table.

“Ow! Jesus…Oh right, yeah.” John got the hint and slipped his hand into Sherlock’s.

The anatomy teacher seemed to notice Sherlock.  
“Hiya, I recognize you from the introductory class last week. How are you doing?” 

“Good, thank you. Can I present my boyfriend, John Watson?” Sherlock said with a sugary smile.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Watson, Sherlock has been talking about your medical expertise quite a bit,” the professor said.  
John raised his eyebrows at Sherlock. To which Sherlock winked.

“Um, yeah, um. I am a registrar doctor doing a first aid course here. Afraid I followed Sherlock here to be near him. I’m from London myself, good thing I got into this course.” John joked, a bit self-consciously.

Sherlock took his hand and kissed his knuckles. 

“You’re doing great. I’m very lucky,” Sherlock murmured softly. John shuddered but tried to stay calm as his heart fluttered.

“Well isn’t that lovely!” the teacher exclaimed, “I must be off, but I’m happy to meet you and I’m sure we will see each other in the anatomy theater!” 

When the teacher was out of earshot, Sherlock drew his hand away and wolfed down his scrambled eggs as if nothing had happened. John’s hand was still buzzing from the contact with Sherlock’s lips. John had many questions but he settled with the most important.

“This dinner date…will it be worse than this?”

“Yes John, much worse. Do keep up!” Sherlock replied with a smug grin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay and short chapter, I had exams that I think I've failed, but oh well! Here is more of them pretending to be a couple for you guys :)

At least I get to take an actually interesting traumatology course for this case, thought John. It did not erase how stressful this whole case was for him, but at least he could stay occupied instead of worrying about his supposed date. 

He now stood in front of a restaurant that looked fancy enough but affordable. Italian. Reminded John of Angelo’s. Obviously.  
Sherlock never left things to chance, did he ? 

Honestly when he first met Sherlock he thought Sherlock had started flirting with him. Shows how appearances can be deceiving. Sherlock was married to his work and would never be interested in him. 

It would be far too easy to fall back into a role of dating his friend. John had to pretend to be in a relationship when he wasn't allowed a real one--and thus had to maintain a certain emotional barrier.  
Operation initiated, muttered John Watson to himself. 

\--------------- 

"Who's watching?" John asked, searching around the room. 

" Oh John, does it really matter? We are just out having a good time!" Sherlock rolled his eyes with a hint of amusement. 

" But the case Sherlock! You always put the case first!" 

" If I tell you you'll ruin it all, as usual! Now I know you need some mental preparation, so let me just say this, when the waitress with the blonde hair and glasses passes by, I will kiss you." Sherlock said. 

"Kiss me?!? Where?"

" On the cheek John, that is a romantic place, isn’t it? Not too passionate, but sweet enough to show we are tender in love." 

"O-kay... Didn't know you were an expert in romance, mister know-it-all." John replied exasperated. 

"You saw her right there?" 

John saw the petite animated young woman, and damn! Sherlock knew his type. Or maybe she just looked like Mary.  
"Yeah." 

"Then forget her and keep your eyes on me." 

That sentence was familiar. John felt his stomach churn, but Sherlock merely looked at John with questioning eyes as if to say “Not good?”. John shrugged it off and focused on Sherlock.

John found this task surprisingly easy to follow as Sherlock changed the subject and started to ramble about a case from last week, explaining his deductions. John was rivetted. 

Suddenly, Sherlock's eyes got more intense than usual. He leaned his head over the table with a smirk. John had a split second to realize what was going on, as he saw a flash of the waitress before Sherlock's face obstructed his view. And Sherlock kissed him on the cheek. Or rather, bumped his lips into John's cheek, narrowly missing his nose.

“Wha-at was that about?” John asked, head buzzing.

“She’s our anatomy teacher’s current girlfriend, and who is cheating on him with that woman by the bar.”

“O-kay… but why was it so important we kiss?” John’s cheek was burning from the contact. He felt slapped rather than kissed. He’d imagined kissing Sherlock in many scenarios and this was disappointing in comparison, but he’d have to accept this was the best he was going to get.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed a frustrated sigh.  
“Really, John? We’re a gay couple. To make her trust us and tell us her secret, we need to show her we’re just like her. That we’re on her side. She’s closeted and needs the boyfriend as a cover.”

“Yes ok, but what place does she…this...this...cheater! What does she have to do with this case?” John tried not to think of the fact Sherlock said the word gay out loud as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“The anatomy teacher is involved, and she would either be an accomplice or an object of jealousy or she could even be the murderer herself. There are many options. Once you’re removed the impossible…”

“Whatever remains must be the truth.” John completed his sentence.

“Exactly.” Sherlock seemed quite pleased with himself, even though he hadn’t proved anything. 

“So tell me more about her. Maybe it will help you deduce?”

Sherlock smiled that very rare smile that seemed reserved for John. John did not know how he was worthy of that honor of his special place in Sherlock Holmes’s life, but he thanked his lucky stars every day for it.


End file.
